


Five Minutes in the Box for Chirping

by ancient_wings



Series: Kylux High School Hockey AU [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Chirping, Homophobic Language, M/M, Phasma Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancient_wings/pseuds/ancient_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When new transfer student Kylo Ren disrupts hockey team captain Hux's carefully cultivated squad, Hux finds his world spinning out of his control.</p>
<p>Also, hockey hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Minutes in the Box for Chirping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/gifts), [jassyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jassyn/gifts).



> Once upon a time, an ancient_wings had too much cold medicine and decided it would be funny to challenge some friends to a Kylux AU round-robin. 
> 
> And then [this happened](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmucWOLnAb4)
> 
> I regret nothing.
> 
> Portions unbeta-ed, let me know about all the typos.

If Hux had to pick the one thing he hated most about Kylo Ren, it would be his stupid fucking hair.

 

No, maybe it was the fact had changed his name before arriving at the academy in order to distance himself from his famously talented family to lower the expectations placed on him.  Not that his preternatural talent could be ignored.  No, to any trained eye the connection was obvious in the way the puck just never seemed to get away from him.  No defenseman could keep up with his speed and, if Hux believed in such a thing as magic, the way Ren always came out of a scrap with the puck would almost qualify.

 

No, it was probably the boy’s complete lack of discipline.  Coming and going from practices as he pleases, ignoring Hux’s carefully crafted and relentlessly drilled plays to score on his own, and his regular trips to the penalty box or ejections and suspensions for fighting, it was as if he wanted to make Hux wake suddenly in the midst of his allocated six hours of exhausted sleep grinding his teeth at that smug stupid face, irritation and adrenaline sweating out of each pore.

 

No, it was the timing of it all.  Mere weeks before the start of what was supposed to be his glorious senior season, when he finally had taken his rightful place as captain and would take this team his father had carefully honed over their entire lives to win the state tournament, and was finally ready catch the eye of every recruiter, and go pro straight out of high school, that was when the reclusive chairman of St.  Grievous Academy, the so-called “Supreme Leader” Snoke, had introduced his newest talent acquisition.  Snoke had even gone so far as to declare that Ren would be their new star player and be positioned as their new first line center, bumping Hux to left wing.  Hux wasn’t sure if he had actually developed an ulcer on the spot, but if he had, he was going to name it after Ren.  While he had initially planned to name the ulcer after Snoke, the ensuing altercation between Captain Hux and Head Coach Hux had resulted in the younger Hux being shipped to the dorms which housed the rest of his teammates, giving him both a small taste of control over his own life and the ability to enforce the appropriate level of discipline within the off rink portion of his team’s lives.  For that, Hux would have been grateful had he not convinced himself it had been his plan all along.

 

No.  That couldn’t be it.  It was definitely the hair.  The hair was, after all, the beginning of the end.  A direct violation of the austere code by which Hux had always held both himself and his players.  One which was gleefully flaunted by Kylo, a visible sign of his overwhelming favor with the very people Hux had spent his entire life trying to impress. Favoritism he hadn’t earned through years of forcing himself into the mold set out for him but rather by the simple nature of the talents he was born with.  That was what Hux hated the most.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

It’s a week before the first major tourney of the season, and Hux is a being a bit shorter than usual with his team.  The boys are doing a free skate warm up before early morning captain’s practice starts, and Hux has noticed a disturbing trend.

“Line up!” he calls, blowing his whistle. 

The boys take their positions, and Hux skates slowly down the line, hands behind his back, surveying his troops. 

 

“Helmets off!”

 

A few confused looks are passed down the line before the helmets are removed, each boy tucking their head gear under their left arm and standing at attention.  Except Kylo, who just pushes his up on top of his head.  This insubordination earns him a quick glare from Hux, but Kylo doesn’t make eye contact, instead staring blankly towards the opposite end of the rink.  Hux dismisses the usual display of disrespect; he has a more profound issue to deal with.

 

“Connor.  Bertrand.  CHET.  Step forward.”

 

The three boys all step forward hesitantly.  If Hux wasn’t wearing his skates, it would have looked like he was pacing, moving slowly back and forth in front of the three blonde goons.  Each of them easily outweighed Hux by half and would have towered over him if they weren’t slouching in a ridiculous attempt to avoid their captain’s wrath. 

 

“Need I remind you three of the uniform code here at the academy?” Hux spat, simmering rage clear in his clear, bitten off enunciation.

 

The whole of the team was split between staring bewilderedly at Hux and glancing at each other trying to puzzle out the latest infraction, minus Kylo of course, who huffed out a quiet laugh. 

 

“Tell me Chet, what does that St. Grievous Academy uniform dictate in regards to acceptable hair styles for its young men?”

 

“Uhhh,” Chet had no intelligent response to his captain’s question.  As Hux had expected.  He would have been surprised if the blonde defenseman had three brain cells to rub together.  Two, maximum.

 

“It’s very simple boys,” Hux continued his lecture, looking not at his chosen victims but directly at Kylo.  “Hair on the top of the head may be up to four inches in length, sides and back no more than one inch, neck clean, hair must not hang over the ears or past the collar, sideburns must be kept well trimmed, and facial hair is expressly forbidden.”  He looks back at the players he’d pulled from the line, who have now started to flush, beads of anxious perspiration appearing on foreheads and upper lips.

 

“But sir, Kylo ...” started Connor.

 

“Excuse me?” Hux turned and fixed his borderline belligerent gaze on the foolish clod who had dared talk back to him.  “Was there a notification that the uniform code has been relaxed that I was not made aware of?”

 

“No sir, we just thought..”

 

“You?  Thought?  As of when was this level of personal reflection a part of your skill set?”

 

Connor flushes several shades darker at this, jam opening and closing around a defense he knows better than to voice before responding, “You’re right sir.  We will make sure to remedy our lapse of discipline before the tournament.”

 

“Excellent choice.  Now, thirty laps, each of you, eighty-percent speed.  Immediately, before I change my mind.  The rest of you, figure-8 drills, ten minutes to start in thirty seconds,” he orders before blowing the whistle again, a shriek which follows the players scattering to put their helmets back on, snag pucks, and get into positions in time.  The sound echoes through the arena, now silent except the sounds of the punished players still sprinting laps.  Until Hux hears the sound of bemused chuckling, moving off the rink. 

 

“I have no need of your simplistic stickhandling drills.  I’m going back to bed,” Kylo announced as he moved down the tunnel to the locker rooms.

 

Hux is unable to formulate a response before the mop of dark waves disappears from his line of sight. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Seriously Phamsa, Kylo Ren is ruining my life.”

 

After the frustration of his morning practice, Hux has once again skipped his first period history class in favor of hitting the weight room with his manager and only confidant in life.

 

“Stop your bitching and finish your reps,” she responds.  “Since when do are you so melodramatic about such a minor setback as a player walking out of practice?”

 

Hux lies back down and repositions himself on the bench while Phasma adds another ten pounds to the bar.  Five reps at this weight will be a personal record, a small victory he desperately needs to shore up his cracked confidence. 

 

“It wasn’t Kylo walking out.  It’s that the other players are starting to emulate him.  They’ve been growing out their hair, whining about practice, talking back.  I’m losing my grip on team discipline Phasma.” 

 

Phasma snorts, looking down at him from over his head where she’s spotting his bench press.  “Yeah, a little long hair and the world’s going to hell.  Three more reps you fucking baby.”

 

“I’m serious!  I called out three of them today for violating uniform code.”

 

“Two more reps.  So what’s so bad about the boys wanting to emulate Kylo’s sweet flow?  It’s not like growing their hair out is going to suddenly make them better players.”

 

“Still not the point!  Just because Kylo can get away with anything because he’s the Chairman’s cock cozy doesn't mean that anything about what makes this team work has changed.  It’s our discipline and commitment to the system we’ve put in place that has gotten us this far, and these are only the first cracks in the foundation to be caused by that lunatic.”

 

“Stop ranting, you’ve still got one rep left.  Besides, why hate on the hair so much?  There’s a distinct lack of spicy salad on this damn team.  Hockey hair is a proud tradition, my friend.”

 

Hux closes his mouth with an audible clack of teeth as he tries to refocus on his form to get one more rep out of his rapidly failing arms.  He starts to take a deep breath in through his nose and lower the bar towards his chest when Phasma decides to fuck with him.

 

“Besides, his hair smells like sunflowers.”

 

Hux chokes on his own tongue and would have dropped the bar right on his sternum had Phasma not predicted the reaction to her comment and extended her hands to catch it first.

 

“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK PHASMA.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, sabotaging my personal record rep?  Also, how the fuck do you know what his hair smells like?”

 

“Awww, is little Huxie jealous?”

 

“OF WHAT?”

 

“That I spot for him.  Who did you think was overseeing his weight training?  I have to say, boy is shredded.  He’s also the only person at this damn school that can spot for me.”

 

“What about me?  You’ve never asked me!” Hux hoped his blushing would read as indignation rather than a spontaneous reaction that shredded thing.

 

“Hux, sweetie, I bench twice what you weigh wet.  Your arms would snap off if I dropped the bar.”

Unable to argue with that logic, Hux’s brain short circuits and the question he was holding in falls out of this mouth.  “What the fuck does a sunflower even smell like?”

 

Phamsa smirks.  “I dunno, google it.” 

 

Hux immediately whips out his phone to do just that.  Phasma lets out a quiet breath in relief that her distraction has succeeded.  In truth, she knew Hux was not going to be able to finish that last rep.  Skipping meals, sleeping even less than before, sneaking out in the early morning hours to chain smoke and pace, Hux’s attempts to manage his anxiety since moving into the dorms were failing him miserably.  So, a little sabotage between friends to maintain his dignity was called for.

 

“ Sunflowers smell faintly of green, growing things and the outdoors. The blossoms, seeds and foliage may all smell similar ,” Hux is reading directly from his phone now between sips of a post-workout protein shake with a bemused expression on his face.  “Seems appropriate.  Sunflowers are tall and gangly, they have giant heads, and they never grow where you want them.  It’s perfect for him.  I wonder if he went out of his way to smell that way or if he uses some weird hippy hair treatment or something?”

 

Phasma tries to look pensive while baiting her next set up.  “I should ask him, it’s really quite stunning how soft his hair is. 

 

Hux nearly chokes on his shake, hoping his expression wasn’t making it transparent how hard he was NOT thinking about how Kylo’s hair would feel between his fingers.  Right before he rips it out of his head.  

 

After giving Hux a couple of beats to recompose himself, Phasma continues, “Seriously though Hux, what is going on with you?  You’re not eating enough or sleeping enough to adequately recover, much less put on any new muscle. You’re chewing your guys out over minor infractions, taking whatever it is out on them constantly.  It’s fucking up morale. Oh, and you think you’re being sneaky about your new vice, but it’s not like I didn’t know that little act of rebellion was inevitable from the moment you turned eighteen and could buy your own tobacco, but damn son how much are you smoking?  Like a pack a day?  More?”

 

Hux looks at the floor and shrugs in lieu of answering.  Phamsa sighs before continuing.

“All I’m trying to say here is, before you go blaming Kylo Ren for fucking everything up for you, for taking your spot, remember to get your own shit together, you know?”

 

It’s Hux’s turn to sigh.  He knows better, he really does, but his preoccupation with Kylo has left him completely off balance.  He hates how fragile his voice sounds when he asks, “How did this happen Phamsa?  How did that guy get under my skin so bad?”

 

Phasma panics slightly at the realization that Hux has dropped all his shields completely.  Knowing Hux would react poorly to signs of affection in his current state, she settles for putting him in a headlock and mussing his hair.  “Dunno son.  Maybe you need to get laid?”

 

Hux grimaces at the hair-mussing but laughs off his friend’s suggestion.  “So, first you’re telling me I’m not taking the time to take care of my shit, and then you tell me to waste more time on some sort of interpersonal relationship?” 

 

Phasma rolls her eyes and releases the smaller man.  “Speaking of which, cock cozy?  Really?”

 

“How else could someone with so little discipline get put on first line?”

 

“Hux, no one gets an eight-pack without tremendous discipline.  You know better.”

 

“Wait, wait, how do you know he has an eight-pack?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Phasma ducks to avoid the now empty shake bottle flying at her head.  “Seriously, can you just admit to being fascinated with the guy?”

 

Hux scoffs at this suggestion.  “I’m not fascinated.  He’s an enigma to be sorted out, that’s all.  Clearly, if he has the level of discipline you suggest, he would be spending more time on the rink than I’ve observed.”

 

Another eye roll from Phasma.  “No matter how much natural talent someone has, you know hands that smooth don’t occur without a freakish amount of drilling.  On a regular basis.”

 

Again, Hux is unable to fault her logic.  “Okay Phasma, so you’re suggesting Kylo has  _ earned _ his spot on the team?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“How?”

 

“I suggest you stop by the arena tonight after curfew.  You know, as long as you’re sneaking out to smoke another bazillion cigarettes.”

 

“Whatever.  I need to hit the showers if I’m going to make the rest of my classes today.”

 

“Eat something too!” she shouts after him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hux couldn’t sleep.  

 

Granted, Hux rarely slept much, or well.  Tonight however, it was not the usual gnawing anxiety over life spinning rapidly out of control pushing him out of his room into the chilly December air.  If anyone asked, he was just going to take a few easy laps around the arena to work through the latest round of indigestion brought on by his eight meal of the day.  Phama’s muscle growth promoting diet was proving difficult to stick to, what with Hux’s consistent lack of appetite.  Which, Hux considered, was yet another way he was failing to live up to his own expectations.  He couldn’t even eat like a normal growing teenage boy, generally barely tasting whatever he’s pushing down his throat and resenting needing to eat at all.  

 

It certainly had nothing to do with the scintillating pieces of data Phasma had planted in his head.  

 

No, Hux had not been driven to distraction all day by the latest puzzle pieces in his understanding of the number one thorn in his side Kylo Ren.  Even if he had been unable to dismiss fleeting thoughts of what might lurk under a certain jersey.  This information was only useful in that by gaining a better understanding of the man, Hux would be more likely to influence his behavior in a more favorable direction for the team.  That must be it, he thinks, glancing around the empty locker room for signs that anyone else was in the building.  

 

He was not curious about Kylo Ren, public menace and user of strange sunflower scented hair products.

 

He just needed to grab a little piece of sanity in the one place he felt the most in control, out on the ice.  

 

Even if it had only been hours since he’d last been on the ice, stepping out under the lights of the arena and starting to slowly skate a lap around the rink felt almost like what Hux imagined a normal kid would feel like coming home after a shitty day of adolescent turmoil.  When was the last time Hux had skated just for the joy of it, alone in the relative silence of the space except for the sounds of blades carving the ice, the rush of bending the physics of the intersection between his skates and the ice to his exact specifications rather than rushing from one space to the next?  

 

At that point, Hux starts to skate a little faster, letting himself relax into the feeling of flying across the ice,  the steady rhythm of his blades starting to drown out the noise in his head until it was the only thing that remained, morphing his midnight exertions into a moving meditation.  Hux felt as though he could breathe for the first time since the season began, and a genuine if slight smile has snuck across his face.  

 

That is, until he feels someone watching him and his defensive scowl crashes back into place as he executes a tidy stop and turns to glare at the intruder.  

 

“So you can smile.  I was starting to think you were some kind of dickless robot, programmed to gnash teeth and reign terror over the team.”   Kylo’s opening salvo was delivered with that characteristic smirk, the one that drives Hux crazy, as he steps out onto the ice.

 

Hux feels his scowl fade as he takes in the view before him.  While he always thinks of Kylo as gangly in his head, the truth is that the young man lacks the clumsiness implied by that word choice.  Kylo skates with an elegance that demonstrates both his strength and a command over his body, elegance born of exquisite control and keenly polished skill.  Adding to Hux’s inability to locate his higher brain functions is the fact that Kylo is wearing loose sweatpants, draped low over his hips, and a too small sleeveless workout tee, rucked up on one side where Kylo has slung his favorite practice stick and a bag of pucks over his shoulder.  Hux’s traitorous brain begins to wonder what that little region of lower abdominal skin would feel like if he rubbed it against his cheek as he feels his face start to flush. 

 

“Uh, captain?” Kylo appears somewhat concerned by Hux’s lack of response.

 

Hux snaps his eyes away and attempts to rearrange his face before chirping back, “Ah, Master Ren.  Shall I take it then that you spend a lot of time thinking about my cock, or perhaps fearing a lack thereof?”  Confident he’s regained the upper hand in this particular exchange, he looks back up when he hears a stick rattle to the ice.  

 

Kylo does not respond to this statement verbally, but instead closes his eyes and stretches his arms up over his head, leaning back into the stretch in such a way that his shirt rides up even further, putting the now infamous abs on display.  Hux feels his flush spread up to his ears, his mouth slightly open as he feels it go dry.  Before he can be caught staring, he drops his eyes back to the ice and turns away, trying to take a deep breath to calm his racing heartbeat.

 

“You’ve caught me,” Kylo finally responds, his voice low and soft and much closer than Hux recalled him being.  Hux turns back and looks up to find Kylo less than an arm’s length away, and his eyes go wide as he drops his gaze again and tries to back away from Kylo.  “I confess, it’s true.”

 

Hux’s back bumps the boards as he fights the shiver running up his spine at those words.  Kylo has continued to advance on his position, trapping Hux against the boards without actually touching him.

 

“I hate you,” Hux mumbles, Kylo’s stupid tee taking up most of his field of vision.

 

Kylo chuckles, as if he expected that response.  He catches Hux’s wrists and gently presses them over his head, holding them gently against the boards.  “Do you now?  Why is that exactly?  Could it be because you think I take too many liberties with your plays and end up in the box too much?”

 

Hux scowls at Kylo’s chest in response.  

 

“So tell me, how many games have we won because I scored in the first few minutes of a game, demoralizing the enemy goalie and drawing their defense to chase me around the rink while you rack up points?”

 

Hux’s scowl morphs into a look of shock as he mentally runs through the season’s games so far.

 

“As for the fighting, well, can you remember the last time this season you took a serious hit?”

 

Hux’s mental tally comes up empty on that front.  “But how could you …”

 

“How could I predict which players were gunning for you and antagonize them away?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kylo chuckles again.  “I like to think I’m a reasonable observer of human behavior.  Mostly though, I go after anyone who I think is looking at you wrong.”

 

Hux is now blushing hard enough that he wonders if the radiant heat from his body could melt through the ice below his feet so he could sink into the ground and disappear.  He still can’t look up into Kylo’s face, resenting how reedy his voice is coming out.  “Why?  Why go to so much trouble for someone you clearly dislike?”

 

Kylo leans his weight forward gently, settling his upper body against Hux as he rests his forehead against Hux’s hair.  “I’ve never disliked you Hux.  Acted out a little to catch your attention perhaps.  Annoyed you to see what kind of person is trapped there, under the layers of reputation and expectations.  But I’ve admired you since long before we actually met.”

 

Hux squeezes his eyes shut, the feeling of his heart drumming in his chest drowning out the little voice in his head yelling at him that this is a good time to say something.  He makes no move to regain control of his arms when he feels Kylo let go of his wrists and then regather both in one hand, lacing their fingers together and resettling them back above Hux’s head against the boards.

 

“I know who you are,” Hux finally stutters out, tucking his chin hard against his chest to avoid the fallout of the intentional barb disrupting whatever spell the two of them are falling under.

 

Instead, Kylo says nothing, lifting his head and bringing his free hand up to Hux’s chin, prying it up so Hux will look at him.  Hux keeps his eyes shut, the feeling that’s been pounding in his chest swelling to the point that he thinks his ribs won’t be able to contain it.

 

“Hux, look at me,” Kylo growls, voice low but commanding in a way that makes Hux’s stomach twist.  

 

Hux keeps his eyes pinched closed, jaw clenched, shaking his head side to side violently like a toddler throwing a tantrum.               

 

Kylo seems to be unphased by Hux’s stubbornness, chuckling as he runs his thumb along Hux’s jaw before gently cupping his cheek.  “Hux ...”

 

Kylo is so close now that Hux can feel his breath on his overheated face.  Hux opens his eyes to  see Kylo looking him right in the eye, and gasps as the weight of that gaze pierces something deep in his gut, pinning him in place far more effectively than the hand still holding his.  Hux shudders under that gaze, feeling unexpectedly relieved to be caught like this, a warm hazy feeling wrapping around his chest and sinking into his bones.  Kylo’s gaze shifts down slightly to Hux’s lips, which Hux licks reflexively under the scrutiny before Kylo’s eyes slip closed and he kisses him.

 

No one had ever kissed Hux this way, soft and slow and sweet, like there was more to the kiss than a step on a checklist to fucking.  Like the person kissing him wanted him to feel what they feel towards him.  Like they wanted to kiss  _ him _ , not Hux, captain of the hockey team, not Hux, Coach Brendol’s son, like they actually saw  _ him _ under all the layers.  Hux feels his emotional shields crumbling around him, and he kisses Kylo back with sloppy enthusiasm, a fine tremor starting to rush through his body.  A displeased whimper escapes him when Kylo pulls back for air, Hux’s lips chasing after Kylo’s.

 

“Easy baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Kylo purrs, stroking his thumb across his cheek as he releases Hux’s hands, finally, wrapping his now free arm around Hux’s waist and pulling him completely flush with his own body before kissing him again.  

 

Hux whimpers into the kiss, letting his aching arms down and twisting the fingers of one hand gently into Kylo’s hair while the other reaches down to tentatively stroke up and down Kylo’s side.  Kylo’s scalp must be fairly sensitive, because the sensation of Hux’s fingers in his hair causes Kylo to moan softly into his mouth before he pulls Hux’s lower lip into his mouth, gently nibbling at it.  The kiss turns heated, and Hux finds himself blindly hunting for the hem of Kylo’s shirt, desperate to feel warm skin under his fingertips.

 

Apparently Hux’s fingers are colder than he thought, as he feels Kylo flinch away slightly as soon as he makes contact with his stomach.  The sensation of Kylo pulling back brings a rush of panic through Hux, who quickly pulls his hands away and tries to push himself off the boards to flee.  Kylo lets him go, and smiles gently before backing up ever so slightly and holding his hands out to Hux. 

 

“I didn’t want you to stop, I just didn’t realize how cold you’ve gotten.”

 

Hux places his hands gently into Kylo’s outstretched hands, and Kylos cradles them gently between his while rubbing them and blowing warm air across them.  The gesture calms Hux immediately, and he shyly smiles back.  

 

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion off ice?”     


End file.
